


thinking

by ouija



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Masturbation, hinata and kuroo are mentioned but they really dont matter tbh, i think t is a decent rating, its really not that bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 01:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1838653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ouija/pseuds/ouija
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>kenma thinking about stuff while touching himself. i guess</p>
            </blockquote>





	thinking

**Author's Note:**

> i'm getting really rusty with this whole 'erotic' thing  
> idk maybe i'll get better

kenma never really thinks in times like these, just lets the tape reel of his mind slowly play back events to him as he lays, spread eagle, edges of his vision hazy as he trains his eyes on the ceiling.

he likes to call it reanalysis, actually. a chance to catch details he might not have the first time, and get caught up in them, purely fascinated.

sometimes his hands trail down to his waistband, sometimes not. but when he does he's always casual with it, nonchalant caresses as he replays observations from days, weeks, months in the past.

it doesn't feel sexual, not really, and it doesn't make him guilty either. it's just another part of the analysis, a challenge to his concentration skills.

he makes it into a game: how much data can he reevaluate successfully during masturbation?

his high score varies, depends on the mood he starts off in, he thinks, and every time his fingers worm beneath his boxers to grasp at his length, his mind fills with a determination to see that previous score crumble into dust.

he starts out slow, usually, feather-light touches over the clothes before he dares to sneak his fingers in. he works one layer at a time, keeping both hands busy--the one not in his pants occupied with his chest--to work himself up to the main event.

wiggling his pants and underwear off is a delayed process, but he sighs in relief each time he does it, thin and quiet and breathy as if he weren't even there. he grips firmly when the clothes are off, bringing the hand from his chest down to fondle his balls. the setter's breath hitches, just about as unnoticeable as his previous noises, and his breathing comes just a bit more ragged. he likes pressure, squeezing as he harshly thumbs the slit, choking out a little whimper at the sensation.

he's been slacking, switches his concentration to his thoughts and lets his strokes get languid. he thinks about shouyou: voice high and wiry, but in a good way, and boundlessly energetic. thinks about the way he jumps as naturally as the rise and fall of his chest with every breath. replays some of their practice matches and drowns in adrenaline. in sweat. his mind flickers to kuroo and he frowns, briefly, eyelids filled with that feline smirk, acute eyes and stupid hair. has videos of his muscles tensing and relaxing, his blocks, receives, on loop, and has to blink a few times to wipe it away.

too deep.

his mind wanders to the dinner he had 4 days ago, the way it tasted on his mouth, the conversation that occurred over the table, and the way he felt; stomach full and face content as he soaked in the bath. frustrated, kenma quickens the pace, longing for more-- something,

slicker.

he pauses, raises the hand that was just on his dick high enough to spit on it (grimaces in the process) before bringing it back down and resuming. it wasn't the best but he could settle for it today.

this time he forfeits the match. chucks the controller clear across the room and indulges himself in his personal time. his labored breath makes the air around him unbearably muggy and he pushes his shirt up some more, desperate to show as much skin as possible, to cool off.

the pants just barely past his hips are decidedly way too on and he struggles his way out of them, hand stopping for nothing because he was so close, so so _so_ unbelievably close and he wasn't about to miss the opportunity to tumble over the edge.

_just one thought will do_  
c'mon brain you can do it  
just-- 

an image flashes like lightning against kenma's closed eyelids and he comes with a pleased sigh, hand slick and coaxing him through orgasm and into overstimulation. dismissively, he wipes it off on his inner thigh and pulls a blanket over his body.

it was the worst idea he had all week, but he would have time to reflect on it tomorrow night.

**Author's Note:**

> kenma getting desperate to finish as i'm getting desperate to end the story lmao
> 
> i think he's a pretty quiet dude in bed. and super self conscious about the noises he does make


End file.
